


Little Things (You Do Together)

by socallmedaisy



Series: Fix Its and Fill Ins [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 20:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socallmedaisy/pseuds/socallmedaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s going to ask her tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Things (You Do Together)

**Author's Note:**

> See note on part one.

Santana gets to the lunch room first, so she grabs a tray and starts pulling enough salad and sandwiches onto it for her and Brittany, then reaches for two diet sodas and slides along to the register, scowling at a junior Cheerio who tries to cut in behind her. Brittany has class on the other side of the school, one of the only ones they don’t have together, and Santana is just reaching for her money to pay for their lunches when a hand appears from behind her clutching a handful of change.

“My turn,” Brittany says with a grin, her face lit up, and Santana feels the answering smile on her own face instantly. Brittany counts out the money and hands it over, then slowly slides her arm through Santana’s as they turn to find a table, careful not to jostle the tray. They ignore Mike and Tina waving at them from the other side of the room, and find a table in the corner, where Santana’s scowl keeps most people away.

(Brittany had pulled her face when Santana had announced she wouldn’t sit with the glee club anymore after the food fight. “But—“ Brittany starts, before Santana holds up her hand to stop her.

“Britt, I love you, but I’m not getting spaghetti in my hair every day. This shit is disgusting.” She’d kept pulling at the clumps of meat and sauce until she’d realised Brittany was staring at her with watery eyes and a smile, and then Brittany had leaned forward and pressed their lips together quickly, while no one was around, and Santana suddenly hadn’t minded the mess.)

They have lunch together almost every day, giggling at stupid jokes and nudging each other’s feet under the table. It’s getting to be something Santana can count on, and it’s starting to mean more than their lunches together in the past. She loves the way Brittany waits for her, on the days when she gets there first, and always manages to make the awful cafeteria food seem a little bit better, just for a little while.

“Can you help me with my algebra homework tonight?” Brittany asks, as Santana pulls back the tab on her soda and takes a sip. “I mean, you’re coming over tonight, right?”

Santana nods as she sets her can down on the table, “Duh.” Hanging out after school and weekends is something else that is starting to take on another meaning, though Santana isn’t entirely sure what that is or why it feels so different these days.

“Okay, good.” Brittany grins at her and presses her feet either side of Santana’s under the table until Santana blushes and has to look down at her food.

+

“San, can you check this one for me?” They’re lying on their bellies on the bed, feet at the top, and heads near the bottom, and Santana tries to ignore the way Brittany props herself up on an elbow and rolls even closer as she pushes her work into Santana’s eye line.

Santana is silent for a minute, adding up numbers and swapping letters around, and eventually gets to the answer Brittany has written down. “I got the same answer,” she looks up and finds Brittany a lot closer than she remembers, and swallows nervously. “Hi,” she mumbles, and she’s aware that it’s a stupid thing to say but she’s forgotten all the other words, and all she can see is Brittany’s clear blue eyes, and the way she’s sucking on her bottom lip and glancing down at Santana’s mouth like it’s something she wants.

“Hi,” Brittany whispers. Her fingers trail up Santana’s arm slowly, raising goosebumps and making her shiver, and Santana bites her lip, hard, to try and wake herself up from the hold Brittany has on her.

Brittany leans in a little, and Santana leans forward in spite of herself, like she’s under some kind of spell, being drawn inexorably forward. Brittany’s hand is on her shoulder, in her hair, and there’s barely any space between them now, so that Santana can feel Brittany’s breath against her lips, like she’s breathing her in.

After a moment, Brittany blinks, breaking the stillness that’s settled in the room, and then she suddenly breaks into a grin, “Thanks, I thought so too.” She pulls back and takes her worksheet with her, leaving Santana feeling like she’s just been submerged into icy water and she’s struggling to breathe.

“Oh my god,” she says after a minute, eyes wide, as Brittany goes back to her work, and shows no signs of coming back. “Tease,” she closes her eyes and flops onto her back, pushing her history homework onto the floor with a thud.

She can feel Brittany’s laughter as she shakes against her, and then Brittany’s weight shifts and she moves until she’s above Santana, holding herself up with her arms. Santana opens her eyes to blonde hair and Brittany’s smile, and there are worse things to see, really, so she guesses she’ll get over it. She reaches up until her hands settle in Brittany’s hair and tries to pull her down, but Brittany resists.

“Did you finish your homework?” She asks, mock stern, smile dancing in the corners of her mouth.

“Yes,” Santana replies instantly, even though she hasn’t, and urges Brittany down again.

This time Brittany doesn’t resist. “Okay,” she says as she closes the gap between them, “Good. Me too.” And then she leans down to kiss her.

+

“Hey Britt-Britt. So I went to the store and bought all the glitter, glue, and coloured card I could find. I hope it’s enough,” Santana can’t see past the massive bag of supplies in her arms but she doesn’t need to, she knows her way around Brittany’s house blindfold, so she staggers into Brittany’s room and drops the art supplies on the floor by her dresser. She turns to find Brittany sitting cross-legged on the bed, a pair of scissors clutched tightly in one hand, and multi coloured paper in various shapes strewn across the duvet in front of her, watching her excitedly.

“You got all that stuff for me?” Brittany hums happily and jumps off the bed to fling herself at Santana.

“Scissors, Britt!” Santana yelps, a second before Brittany reaches her, and Brittany glances down at the scissors in her hand like she’d forgotten they were there.

“Oh yeah,” she puts them down on the dresser behind Santana carefully and reaches for her again, “Sorry.” Her hands find the small of Santana’s back and Santana feels the warmth of Brittany’s palms flat against her spine.

She holds herself a little apart from Brittany and slides her arms around her neck loosely, standing on her tiptoes to look Brittany in the eyes. “We’re gonna make the best posters ever, and then you’re gonna be elected President,” Santana promises her fiercely.

Brittany smiles shyly and pulls Santana closer, “Thanks, San.”

Santana leans up to press one chaste kiss against her cheek, and then she pulls back, wrapping her hand around Brittany’s and leading her to the art supplies. “Now let’s make some kick ass posters.”

Later, they’re curled up on the bed watching Fresh Prince reruns on Nickelodeon, piles of posters stacked up by the door, when Brittany looks up from where she’s lying in Santana’s lap and asks, “If I’m President, will you be my First Lady?”

“When you’re President, Britt,” Santana replies sleepily, stressing the word, “And of course I will.”

“No, I mean really though.” Brittany plays with the fingers of Santana’s hand, entwined with her own, “Will you really?” It’s so earnest and a little bit unsure, like she’s almost afraid of the answer, and Santana finds she has to swallow past the lump in her throat before she can speak.

“I will, Britt. I promise.”

Brittany pulls her hand up to her lips, and kisses it softly before she looks away, and Santana feels the pressure of her lips long after they’re gone.

+

“I’m going to audition for Anita,” Santana whispers it like it’s the biggest secret in the world, sneaking glances at Rachel, Kurt and Blaine eating lunch on a nearby table and making sure they can’t hear her. “My audition’s tomorrow after school.” She glances down at her plate shyly and then back up again, “I hoped that you’d – I mean, would you come with me?”

Brittany’s whole face lights up with her smile, and she grabs Santana’s hand over the table for a second before Santana’s eyes shoot fearfully around the room and Brittany lets go again without comment. “Of course I’ll be there.”

Santana releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding and smiles quickly, “Thanks, Britt.” She goes back to picking at the food on her tray, stabbing it a little harder than strictly necessary, “Anita’s the best part in the whole thing anyway, Rachel and Mercedes can keep Maria.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Brittany says round a mouthful of lettuce, “Is Anita the lead?”

“Second lead,” Santana answers, “You’ve really never seen it?”

Brittany shakes her head, “Maybe we could watch it later?”

“For sure,” Santana responds quickly, “It’s a date.” She freezes when she realises what she’s said, and at the way Brittany looks up at her quickly, so hopeful, for just a second, that they’re finally going to put a word to whatever this is, and has been for a few months now, stretching back to the summer. “I, uh—“

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Brittany says quickly, talking over her so Santana doesn’t get the chance to mess this up, again, with her one step forward and two steps back. Brittany stands up quickly, her half eaten lunch forgotten, “I’ll see you in English.”

Santana watches her go, and stabs at her food again, hating herself again for what she almost did. But there’s something else there too, this time, a little spark of excitement through the self loathing, because she’d said it out loud – It’s a date – and Brittany hadn’t let her fuck it up.

+

They get as far as Tony singing ‘Maria,’ and then Santana sighs happily, her feet in Brittany’s lap, their fingers tangled tightly together, and murmurs, “This is kind of perfect.”

“I think you’re kind of perfect,” Brittany replies, silly and earnest in the way that only Brittany can be silly and earnest, and then she leans forward to kiss Santana and they forget about the movie altogether.

+

Santana shifts nervously from foot to foot as she waits for Ms Pillsbury to call her name, wondering where Brittany could be. She’d said she’d be there, but they had separate classes last period, and Brittany had told her that she’d meet her in the auditorium before her audition started when she’d left her outside the classroom. It makes her even more nervous that Brittany isn’t there to take her hands and calm her down the way she has so many times before.

“Santana Lopez!”

She takes a deep breath and steps out onto the stage, and when she looks out against the lights there’s Brittany, sitting front row centre and beaming, and she looks so proud that Santana feels her nerves disappear instantly. She takes a step into the spotlight, and sucks in another breath as the music starts. She doesn’t take her eyes off Brittany the whole time she’s singing, and when the last note fades, Brittany jumps to her feet and cheers as Santana blushes and shifts from foot to foot, and then Ms Pillsbury and Coach Bieste are on their feet and clapping too, while Artie sits next to them, wearing a grudging smile.

“Thank you, Santana,” Ms Pillsbury says, “That was excellent.”

“Thank you,” Santana offers them one last smile before she climbs down off the stage to where Brittany is still grinning and waiting for her.

“You were amazing,” Brittany whispers into her ear, wrapping her pinky around Santana’s and heading for the door.

Santana waits until they’re out in the parking lot and finally inside her car before she says, “I thought you weren’t coming.” It comes out in a little bit of a rush, like she doesn’t really want to admit to it.

Brittany reaches for her hand across the gap between their seats and laces their fingers together tightly, “I said I’d be there, didn’t I?”

Santana nods, but she’s still upset, even though it’s completely irrational. The fact is Brittany did come, and Brittany has always come whenever she needs her. “You did,” she smiles, but there’s something broken about it, like it doesn’t look quite like a smile should.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Brittany’s other hand reaches across the console, and settles on Santana’s cheek, thumb stroking over her cheekbone gently, brushing away a stray tear.

“Nothing, I don’t know.” Santana sniffles helplessly. Brittany makes her feel like this sometimes, like she’s too big and too small at once, like the words don’t mean what they mean and nothing fits exactly how it should. She felt it standing by Brittany’s locker last year, and a dozen times over the summer, but it doesn’t make it any easier, and she still doesn’t know how to say what she means, which is that Brittany makes her life better just by being around, and she still can’t believe how she got so lucky, to meet the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with when she was only five years old. In the end, she sniffs and wipes at her eyes and says, “I’m just really glad you were there, okay?” But it doesn’t come close to what she wants to say, not really.

“Okay,” Brittany nods, thumb still moving comfortingly. “But I’ll always be there for you, San.”

“You better,” Santana huffs a laugh through her tears. She can’t see anyone through the windows, so she pushes herself across the console, scrambling into Brittany’s lap and kissing her deeply, trying to put all the words she can’t say into the way her lips press desperately against Brittany’s as she licks into her mouth.

+

After Cheerios practice they’re so exhausted they go to Santana’s house because it’s closer, and Santana takes three steps into her room and collapses facedown on her bed. “Fuck wind sprints,” she mumbles into the covers, unsure if Brittany can even hear her, and wondering why Brittany doesn’t sound as exhausted as she does right now.

“San, you shouldn’t get in to bed with your shoes on.”

“I’m not in bed, I’m on it.” Santana tells the covers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She can hear Brittany moving, and then she feels long fingers gripping her ankle as the other hand loosens her sneaker and pulls it off carefully.

When her shoes are off, Brittany’s fingers trail up the backs of her legs as she walks around so she’s by Santana’s head and then she crouches down and waits until Santana turns to look at her. “You should get changed if you’re going to sleep.”

“Too much effort,” Santana whines, “And it’s too early. I’m just having a nap.”

“You want me to go home if you’re going to sleep?” Brittany brushes a strand of Santana’s hair away from her eyes, and Santana’s hand shoots out to grab hers quickly.

“Stay with me, Britt-Britt.”

“Sure sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to move to let me in.” Santana does, but grumbles the whole time, until she’s tucked against Brittany’s side, her head on Brittany’s chest and Brittany’s arms around her tightly. “Better?”

Santana snuggles a little closer and shakes her head, “Cold.”

“You’re lying on the covers, San.”

“You keep me warm then,” Santana suggests sleepily, until Brittany pulls her closer.

+

Brittany shakes her awake a little later, saying urgently, “San, I think I just heard your mom come home.”

Santana’s awake in an instant, and sure enough she hears the sounds of her mom’s heels on the stairs, and then her door bursts open a second after they detangle themselves and put enough distance between them to seem respectable.

“Oh,” Santana’s mom stops in the doorway, “I didn’t know you were here Brittany.”

“Hi Mrs Lopez,” Brittany mumbles respectfully. The silence stretches for a moment, and then she adds, “I was just leaving actually.”

“I’m going to drive Brittany home,” Santana blurts out before her mom can say anything else, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t be late, Santana, it’s a school night.” Her mom’s eyes flick between them for a moment as they gather their things, and then she steps aside to let them pass without another word.

Santana’s hands are shaking so badly by the time she reaches the car that she has trouble putting the keys in the ignition. She fumbles with them for a moment, and finally slides them in, twisting quickly to get the engine to start, and then she shifts the car into drive and grips the wheel with both hands.

She drives in silence for a long moment and then she exhales noisily and says, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” Brittany reaches for Santana’s free hand, and they drive like that in silence until they get to Brittany’s house and Santana pulls the parking break on.

“Do you want to come in for a little while? My mom won’t mind,” Brittany rubs circles with her thumb into the back of Santana’s hand, and Santana feels herself relax in spite of everything.

“I should get back before my mom gets any worse,” Santana tugs on Brittany’s hand until she’s leaning across the console and then kisses her quickly before pulling back and resting her forehead against Brittany’s. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Brittany presses one more kiss to the corner of Santana’s mouth before she climbs out of the car and walks up her driveway. Santana watches until she disappears inside the house, and then she puts her car in drive and takes the long way home, hoping her mom might have forgotten about her by the time she gets there.

+

Santana takes a deep breath and steps forward to look at the cast list with Brittany pressed into her side, brushing her fingertips against her wrist every now and then when they’re close enough for it to look accidental. She sees her name next to Anita and for a second she can’t feel anything but a kind of numbness, and then Brittany grabs her hand and grins at her, and it hits her: she got the part. Never mind that she’s going to have to spend more time than anyone should with Berry and the Warbler, but she’ll take that right now, as long as she gets to do something she loves.

“You got the part!” Brittany squeals happily, taking half a step forward and bringing her other hand up to completely enclose Santana’s.

Santana can’t keep the grin off her face, and she rolls her eyes a little like there was ever any doubt. “I got the part,” she tries to aim for cool, but it still comes out ridiculously high pitched and excited.

“I’m so proud of you,” Brittany tugs on her hand a little to head for the choir room and glee club, and it takes Santana a while to realise that they’re still holding hands as they walk, and that no one’s saying anything, or even noticed. It’s not far from the noticeboard to the choir room, but every step Santana expects a slushy or a shove, but Brittany seems to sense her thoughts, and holds onto her hand all the tighter so she can’t let go.

When they step through the door, Tina nudges Mike in the ribs and whispers something to him, and Santana is sure that they’re talking about them, but then Mike says, “Hey Anita, how awesome is it that we got the parts?” and Brittany gives her hand another squeeze and bounces over to them, pulling Santana along with her.

He stands up and high fives her, and she realises as she stands there, hand in hand with Brittany, that she’s always kind of liked Mike Chang.

+

Santana picks Brittany up from her dance class on Saturday morning with two cups of coffee (black with lots of sweetener for her, some ridiculously sweet iced concoction for Brittany) and stands in the hallway peering through the door like some kind of creeper, mesmerised by the way Brittany moves. When the teacher signals them to start their warm downs, Santana opens the door with her elbow and sneaks round the room until she’s behind Brittany, then whispers, “Hi Britt,” in her best sing song.

Brittany straightens up out of her stretch and grins when she sees the drinks Santana is holding, “Hi!”

Santana watches Brittany stretch out her leg muscles, bending in ways that cause Santana’s brain to shut down and then reboot into some very indecent thoughts, and stays silent as people start to file out. Brittany bends down to touch her toes and then sneaks a glance up at Santana, who clearly isn’t wearing the pokerface she thought she was judging by the way Brittany smirks and wiggles her hips as she comes back up. They’re alone now but for a couple of older kids at the front so Brittany makes a grab for her, enfolding her in a sweaty hug and jostling the drinks, “I saw you looking!” She squeezes her hands into Santana’s hips and laughs.

“Nothing I ain’t seen before, Pierce,” Santana tries to sound nonchalant but she can’t keep the grin off her face or out of her voice, and then they both end up giggling like little kids with a secret.

A girl at the front glances at them in disproval as she leaves, more for the way they’re breaking the silence than anything else, and Brittany grabs her bag and herds Santana towards the door, hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Santana’s parked a little way down the street, and they walk in companionable silence, sipping their drinks and bumping hips. The passenger side door is next to the sidewalk, so Santana opens it before Brittany can get there, just because. Brittany grins as she tosses her bag in the back seat and climbs in, then wordlessly holds her hand out for Santana’s coffee cup to free up Santana’s hands so she can drive. By the time Santana comes round to the other side and climbs in, her drink is in the coffee holder closest to the wheel, and she has to suppress a grin as she starts the engine. “Where to?”

“Home,” Brittany says after a minute, “I need to shower before we do anything else today.”

The fact that Santana knows that Brittany means her house but that she means home in some way that’s actually bigger than that, and that Brittany takes it as given that they’re going to spend the rest of the day together without Santana even having to ask sets off a warm glow inside her, and she pulls out into the traffic and heads back across town, singing along to the poppy love song Brittany finds on the radio with as much feeling and belief as she can put into the silly clichéd lyrics.

+

When they get home, Brittany’s parents are out, and Brittany takes her hand as they climb the stairs, heading for her room so she can find fresh clothes. She rummages in the wardrobe as Santana flops down on the bed and reaches for the magazine she’d left on Brittany’s nightstand earlier in the week. She leafs through the pages leisurely, and after a few moments she hears water running across the hallway, and the sound of splashing as Brittany climbs in. Before she has time to wonder why she can hear so well, or why Brittany is taking a bath instead of a shower, she hears Brittany calling her name, drawing out the sounds the way she does when she wants something.

“Yeah?” She calls back, still flipping through her magazine.

“I forgot my clothes.”

Santana glances up and sure enough, there’s a neat pile of clothes on top of the dresser next to the wardrobe, exactly in Santana’s eye line. She laughs under her breath and climbs off the bed, grabbing the clothes and heading out into the hall.

The bathroom door is open, and Brittany is leaning over the side of the tub, chin resting on the lip, arms trailing down the sides, with half a smirk on her face. “Thanks,” she says, sounding completely serious.

Santana hears the rush of water as Brittany moves her legs, and swallows hard. She crosses the room in three quick strides and drapes the clothes over the towel rail, trying to keep her eyes on Brittany’s face. The silence stretches for a moment, Brittany watching her calculatingly, and then Santana turns to take a step towards the door.

“Don’t you wanna get in?” Brittany says suddenly, and when Santana turns to look she’s pouting and tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Um,” Santana almost swallows her tongue.

“Shut the door,” Brittany suggests, so Santana does.

Brittany watches silently as Santana fumbles to take her clothes off, and then Santana stands there nervously, wondering if she should try to cover herself with her hands. It’s ridiculous; Brittany’s seen her before, and they’ve had sex in showers and bedrooms and cars and wherever else, both before the lockers and after, but something’s different here, something in the air that Santana can almost taste if only she knew how.

Brittany watches her with clear blue eyes, and holds out her hand to help Santana climb in. She sits facing Brittany, holding herself together awkwardly, wondering exactly what she’s doing here and what Brittany expects her to do. It’s about something more than sex, and Santana hasn’t read the instruction manual this far ahead.

Brittany giggles and splashes a handful of water at her, “Not like that, silly. Turn round.”

She does what Brittany asks, pulling her knees up to her chin and spinning, and then Brittany’s hands wrap around her and pull her backwards until she’s between Brittany’s legs, leaning back against her chest. After a minute Brittany presses a kiss against the side of Santana’s head, and then Santana lets her head fall back against Brittany’s shoulder, savouring the feel of Brittany’s fingertips as they trail over her collarbones.

All Santana can hear is the sound of Brittany’s breathing and the pounding of her heart, overloud in the silence of the room, and she opens her mouth to speak but she’s half afraid of breaking the spell. Brittany is warm and solid behind her, her skin warmed by the water, and Santana wishes she could stay here forever and leave everything else behind.

“This is nice,” she says finally, though that doesn’t really cover it.

“Yeah,” Brittany agrees quietly, pressing another kiss to her temple, “It is.”

+

Breadstix@8?xxxxx

She stares at Brittany’s text message for a long time before she replies, and then she applies her make up carefully in the mirror in her room, and tries desperately to control her breathing. Her hand shakes, and she has to wipe her eyeshadow off more than once so she can start again.

She’s going to ask her tonight.

She wonders if she should get changed or if her cheerleading uniform is okay, and then she wonders what Brittany is wearing and if she’s thinking the same thing. Her favourite dress needs washing, and none of her other clothes feel right so she ends up back in her uniform, tugging and twisting the fabric between nervous fingers.

She’s going to ask her tonight.

She should dress up, but she hasn’t asked the question yet and if she changes her clothes and gets the wrong answer, it’ll make everything about a hundred times worse. They’ve done this a hundred times before, and all she has to do is eat and talk. She can do this. She can.

She’s going to ask her tonight.


End file.
